Polite Convention
by Alpha Armari
Summary: After the 5th game, the trio is finally back together. However, the enemy they have faced twice before has escaped yet again into the world. Bentley and his friends now have to track Penelope down and send her back to jail once more. But something seems quite off about her, her standard evil behavior, and the whole situation. Is it just odd or is something worse going on? (1st fic)
1. Chapter 1

**Ok...This is my first fanfiction I'm uploading here...**

Usually I upload this stuff to deviantArt, but I wanted to try this site as well since I heard it was better for literature.

Mind you, I believe my writing skills need to be improved and all that so I thought doing writing exercises such as this would help sharpen those dull skills.

**No, I didn't write a fanfiction of the fifth game. I didn't mean too,** it's sorta up to you to come up with how the previous adventure of the gang went down. You'd probably come up with a better version of it than me.

**This story may get a bit grim for some people**...I think it's nothing, but it's worth a mention for those people who really don't care for violence and the deadly details.

**And cliche**...it kinda gets cliche...

...

He was at a loss for words. He just sat there, staring into the vast oblivion that the small white room somehow contained. It was great and endless, but yet it was confined to just a plain, little room. Oh the irony. Thoughts roamed in this bliss, twirling, fluttering, and then falling as fast as his heart sank.

How?

When?

And most importantly why?

Why did this happen? How on earth had he not seen it before? When did she turn out to be-

No, No. This was impossible. This had to be an elaborate hoax. She really couldn't be…this. He had known her for such a long time; he would've picked up any little hint that this…this kind of-

There was a knock at the door of the room, which opened the well-known and shunned mental door back to reality. He decided not to take it or at least not to react to it.

Noting the absence of response, the source of the knock opened the door a crack, apparently finding the business of actually entering the room and confronting the occupant to be too unconventional.

"Bentley…it's time…"

The turtle didn't move.

"Bentley…I understand that you may not, after what you have gone through and learned and now have to go through ag-"

"I'm fine. I appreciate your kindness, but I'm not really your concern."

"Your satisfaction and well being is. Mainly because I own this entire facility and all of the-

"I know. I know…. Just give me a few more minutes."

"I would, but you've been in here for nearly half an hour. Your friends will be worried if you don't return to them soon."

The knocker, out of impatience, decided it was best to show himself to emphasize the urgency. He was a stout, middle-aged falcon dressed in a big black business suit. Despite his small height, his economic stature and power was made evident by his attitude and his over all appearance. He was clean-cut and brisk, but still possessed a sort of dignity and pride for his occupation. Upon the corner of his chest a name tag read;

_Special Clearance; Mr. Steve J. Hawk, Field of Technological Development Research and Containment._

Bentley, after a long pause and a sigh, turned to face him.

"Ok", he finally replied, "I'm ready".

**The day before;**

This was it. Everything was finished. All the Cooper gang's enemies had been defeated. And with Sly back in the picture, everything was fine again. The gang could finally go back to thieving in peace. Indeed everything was in place.

Except for one thing….One person.

Penelope, the mechanic mouse was missing yet again. After her second attempt at destroying the Cooper clan was foiled by no other than Sly's gang, she was promptly returned to jail to live in a substantially more secure cell. Due to the severity of her most recent crime and the fact that her previous escape had gone unpunished, she was to stay there for the remainder of her days. But once again due to the absence of secure funding and lack of competent guards, the rat had managed to slip back into the world.

Thus the peace was _once again_ disturbed.

Bentley was busy adjusting his binocucom to better focus on their target. A few anonymous tips had led him and the gang to this military base out in the middle of nowhere. Apparently a pink mouse with blond hair using technologically advanced weapons had been sighted here. How and why people would somehow be wandering around a place like this was beyond him, but that really wasn't important.

A buzz came from the radio. *CHIIRWHIZZzz…BENTLEY?! CAN YOU HEAR ME!*

Bentley wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed.

"Yeah, I hear yah Murray"

*This is getting kinda boring…Can we grab some food or something? This desert is really making me want desserts.*

"Not now, we just have to be patient, that's all"

A tumbleweed rolled across the stretch of land that separated the hill he was stationed at and the square concrete building in front of him. So far it was the 4th tumbleweed that blew in that direction since he first started the observation, properly displaying the lack of activity he was waiting for.

The absence of any life and evidence was something that was bugging him from the beginning. Everything about the events…or lack of events…was just weird.

Penelope, the last time she escaped the law, had sent a constant supply of letters and postcards. This time there was absolutely none. Zero. Zip. Nada. Absolutely no sign of her existence. He figured this was her way of finally cutting their ties, but knowing her, something didn't feel right. She would at least make a final, and most likely mocking, message to the gang before she'd go off like this. It just didn't seem like her.

*****BENTLEY! Are you awake? Sly wants to say something!*

The paraplegic jerked his head back up, "Ye-Yes?".

*Bentley…I really think we should head back. We've been waiting here for a few hours now.*

He sighed.

*I know you're really into this, and I understand why, but we really can't wait this long and risk getting caught. We can continue this tomorrow.*

Bentley, for the first time in what seems like an eternity, tore his eyes off of the structure.

"Ok…I guess you're right. I just…can you wait for one minute…just one?"

*Alright, just a minute.*

The turtle turned off the radio and turned back to the base. It was as quiet and bland as ever. From a distance it looked almost abandoned. It wasn't run down by any means, but it certainly showed no sign of occupy. There wasn't even any security guards or agents roaming the place. Some sanctuary.

He unscrewed his canteen and took a gulp of water. The desert heat, although decreasing with the twilight, was certainly taking its toll. Almost nobody would live in a place like this, let alone survive in it without a steady supple of water and food, and the closest source of both was hundreds of miles away. Bentley concluded, from the remote location and the nonexistence of people that what ever they kept in this base was extremely valuable or extremely dangerous.

Bentley got up and leaned back into his wheelchair. It was safe to say that there wasn't anything suspicious going on here aside from the complete absence of activity, and chances are there wouldn't be any activity for an even longer period of time.

It was time to go back to the safe house. There he could come up with a plan to maybe bug the place and get past the mouse-like figure in the-

Wait.

It was her.

He'd know that silhouette anywhere!

The turtle grappled for the radio and bashed the on button.

"SLY! MURRAY! I FOUND HER! I FOUND HER!"

*What? You serious?*

"YES! She's on the roof! Look!*


	2. Chapter 2

*What? You see her? Are you sure?*

"Positive! Just look over there!"

*I see someone, but are you absolutely sure that it's Penelope?*

Bentley was growing impatient. _Can't they see? It's obvious!_

"I said it once and I'll say it again it's definitely-"

The figure was gone.

"Wh-where did she-"

*She must've heard us and fled, you were a bit too loud.*

He had to admit he acted a little too excited when he called them, but the distance between the hill and the building would've been enough to stifle the noise, or at least most of it. Chances are she just decided to go back inside for whatever reason.

"But she's here. She really is."

It was a dumb observation and a weird way of emphasizing what they already knew, but it was true.

*Should we get her? I'm ready to take someone down! Waiting around all day has made me really bored.*

Bentley shook his head even though the others weren't there to take the hint.

"No, we have to make a plan. We can't just waltz in there and get ourselves killed!"

*But nobody else is there! What's the big deal? There doesn't seem to be any big problem.*

He could see where this misled conclusion came from. Penelope was there and it looked as though nobody else was. There weren't even any guards or lackeys. This was both comforting with the fact that there would be need for little violence but also quite suspicious as the mouse never set up shop anywhere without at least some form of defense, she wasn't that stupid.

"The place is just too quiet. For most criminals, they often unintentionally express their confidence in the amount of security around their fortress. And since there is practically none, Penelope must either be full of herself or have something that can provide the same level of security that an entire army of goons can."

*Or maybe she came here recently, she may not have had the time to organize.*

Bentley turned his back on the building and focused his full attention on the radio.

"She has been gone for 4 months, Sly._ 4 months._ And even if she was just wasting her time and just arrived here, she would at least have one or two robot cronies. When you're trying to create an evil lair most people would at the very least make sure that they have a decent watch and enough power to defend themselves."

*Most people aren't evil masterminds, Bentley.*

This was getting tiresome. They needed a plan and they needed it fast. He wasn't going to wait any longer.

"You know what I mean, Sly! Can you two just listen to me? We have to get her back to jail before she tries to destroy the world a third time!"

*Bentley…*

"Can we just get this over with? I am tired of waiting! I am tired of chasing! I am tired of everything going wrong!"

*Uh..Bentley?*

"And most importantly", his voice cracked, "I'm tired of _HER_!"

Tears were beginning to form on the corners of his eyes, whether they were from frustration or fatigue, he didn't know or care. He was just….

He brought himself back to reality.

"Ok…I'm really sorry for that…I just…", he tried tuning the radio, "You guys were right earlier, we should go back. I'm just too tired to work properly."

The radio remained quiet.

"Guys?"

No answer.

"GUYS!"

Still no answer.

The turtle groaned.

"I said I was sorry. Please respond somehow to prove you haven't-

Static still remained the only audible noise. Bentley tried tuning the radio a bit more, tweaking the knobs back and fourth and back again. It was a relatively old radio and using it during a mission such as this was the last thing he would've wanted. However, due to an unfortunate accident involving Murray and his dinner of nacho cheese, the communicator on his binocucom was ruined, leaving him to resort to using this useless thing.

The turtle banged the radio out of frustration. It was hard enough dealing with fatigue, but it was substantially worse having to deal with fatigue with no communication in a potentially dangerous location. The thought of being alone here with that…he didn't know what to think.

Bentley scratched the back of his head. For some odd reason, he could feel that something wasn't right. It was as though he was being watched…very, very closely. _If he had hair on the back of his neck_, he thought, _it would be standing up right now_. Then he realized something. The static kinda sounded a little like voices. Very faint murmurs.

He turned the volume up.

*wwwwwwwhirrrrrentlyzzzzBentley….Bentley….*

The whispers were so inaudible that he had turn up the volume to the maximum setting, and even then it was hard to understand as the words were constantly interrupted by static.

"Sly?"

*Bentley…careful…there's…*

"What, what is it?"

*Bentley…tired to tell…but…can't…*

"Sly, please, just tell me what-"

*Bentley…. Behind you…*

...

Bentley didn't move.

Everything seemed to stop. The world seemed oh so very still. Nothing seemed to move, not even the wind and sand that kept blowing until this moment. His breath and heartbeat began to increase in pace. They were the only sound he heard in the deafening silence; a steady thump-thump thump-thump…He felt extremely numb. Cold sweat trickled down his neck and he could feel it lightly soak every scale on his skin.

He wanted to hide.

But he knew he couldn't.

His instincts were debating if he should turn around.

He knew he shouldn't. It would only make things worse.

He shouldn't. He shouldn't.

The turtle's head slowly but surely turned around, centimeter by centimeter, until it faced toward the building.

There, barely 2 feet behind him, a pink mouse with blond hair was crouching like a panther with some sort of futuristic gun aimed at him.

Penelope.

"Penelope," Bentley whispered.

The mouse stayed completely still.

"Penelope", he said slightly louder.

Still no answer.

The paralepegic turned his wheelchair around.

"Penelope, you weren't planning to backstab me in a more literal sense, were you?"

He knew she was, and he knew she knew it too. Or so he thought.

"Oh, so mocking me isn't enough? It's easier giving me the silent treatment?"

The mouse slightly tilted her head to the side as though to look at him better.

Bentley took a better look at her.

"I take it your old outfit doesn't suit you anymore. Not enough black for you? I knew you really like that color, but I didn't think you loved it enough to wear that color latex in a desert like this."

She tilted her head to the other side, not once looking away from Bentley who looked both anxious and amused at the same time.

"I mean look at you! You look like a cross between a motorcycle thug and cat burglar! You even covered your mouth with your old bandana! And you sprayed a smile on it…creepy, Penelope, creepy…did smiling become to hard for you too?"

She continued to remain still, like a bird waiting for its prey to come closer.

"How about you cut that out and we cut to the chase? What evil plan are you coming up with this time? You don't have Clockwerk or Le Paradox to help you now…."

The rat was as silent as ever.

This was starting to get very uncomfortable for the paraplegic.

Bentley straightened himself up.

The mouse's body twitched at his movement.

_Ok_, the turtle thought, _now it's getting extremely weird._

Bentley scanned the area….

The mouse kept her steady gaze on him.

Bentley stretched out his left hand to the side.

She jolted and lifted her gun slightly.

He let it fall.

Her gaze followed its movement.

"Look…I'm not quite sure what's up with you, but-." Bentley peered into her dark shades, "Hello...Penelope?"

After receiving no response once again, the turtle sighed.

"You're really off your rocker, aren't you?"

The rodent cocked her gun.

In a flash, Bentley pulled out his crossbow and aimed it at her.

"Oh, so now you want to fight? Fine then we can settle this ag-' he trailed off…He became aware of a weird ringing noise. It was not unlike the whir of a computer's hardware, but it felt as though it was coming from the person in front of him. He looked at the weapon aimed at him.

It looked like it would be right at home in a sci-fi movie, specifically in some alien's stronghold. It was black and roughly the size of a rifle but substantially more bulky and curved. The weirdest thing about it though was a glowing line that ran along its sides. It seemed to gradually change color from green to yellow to…

Uh oh.

Before he could even think, Bentley jumped back out of the reach of the blaster, barely escaping the bullet of light. In retaliation he began shooting his own weapon at her with similar results. She dodged left and right and back and forth, narrowly evading his every shot. Bentley put his wheel chair on autopilot mode; he was going to need all his concentration to pull this off. He grabbed the radio and called to his friends.

"GUYS! Plan B! You know the drill!"

*Rodger Bentley…wait…what plan was that-*

Another plasma shot nearly took him down.

"THE SITTING DUCK! THE SITTING DUCK! JUST HURRY!"

...

**I think I have been adding WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY to many improperly built up scenes...But what do you think?**

**(ps. I'll only be commenting when I deem it necessary. I find that writer descriptions, if too large, are bit annoying when it comes to fanfictions on this site. But if you think otherwise, let me know.)**


	3. Chapter 3

The situation was beyond hectic. The simple duel between the turtle and mouse had quickly escalated into a full-blown nuclear war. Sleep darts and gamma rays darted back and forth; most creating craters and scorch marks where they crash-landed. Some managed to fly as far as the rectangular building leaving sizable burns in its walls and others even collided with one another creating miniature explosions of light and metal, but the bullets for the most part never reached their intended targets.

Bentley never thought that he'd be in a gunfight of this magnitude. Sure it wasn't technically a gunfight being that he was using a crossbow and his opponent was wielding some kind of alien death ray, but it still had the same atmosphere as a brawl in the old west that Tennessee Kid Cooper would've enjoyed. The turtle was relatively surprised that he hadn't run out of ammo by now and even more baffled at how he'd been managing to survive this long without being burnt to a crisp. For a guy with limited mobility, he was doing remarkably well. However, in order for this mayhem to end, he was going to need his plan to be put into action as soon as possible. If all went well according to it, Penelope would be incarcerated in no time.

Plan B, or 'Sitting Duck' as Bentley dubbed and explained it during the presentation on the way there, had a simple objective. One of the three of them, Sly, Murray, or himself, was to act as a decoy and distract Penelope. Then the remaining two would sneak up behind and shoot her with blue, custom-made sleep darts that the turtle had made beforehand specifically for that purpose. If that proved too difficult they would have to try anything they could to take her down. Now, he guessed, the decoy was him and he had to keep the distraction up.

In the meantime, the battlefield was a flurry of sand, metal, and man. Bentley leapt to and fro as did his challenger; the two of them both trying dodge the other's fire and attempt to strike the opposition down. Occasionally it would come close, with maybe a bullet singe here or there, but neither combatant gained an advantage.

About a minute in, Bentley was beginning to notice something very strange about the fight that he hadn't caught before. From the direction the match was going, which was nowhere apparently, he began to notice a pattern with Penelope's attacks and evasions. It was as if Penelope was somehow predicting his aim and not only predicting his aim, but predicting the precise rate of fire from his weapon in under a second and be able to react just milliseconds after. The only people-heck _THINGS_, that he knew were able to do that efficiently were military grade turret security cameras. And SHE certainly wasn't a T-cam 9000.

The turtle really didn't have the time to contemplate; it was far more important for this suddenly trigger-happy rat to be put back behind bars. Speaking of which….

*Buzzzzzzzzz…Bentley, we're in position!*

Bentley gave a brief sigh of relief before he was suddenly brought back to earth with a near bullet-to-the-head experience.

"Great!", he clutched the radio tightly and after shooting about twice more, hid behind a boulder that he cursed himself for not hiding behind earlier, "Do you have a clear shot?"

*Affirmative, pal. One blue-red sleep dart coming right up!*

He smiled. Once that blue-red missile hit its target, it would be game over. Penelope would be asleep and in custody and he could just forget about the whole…

Wait.

Blue-red sleep dart?

But….the ones to take down Penelope were supposed to be just bl…

_Oh no._

Rewinding his mind back to the briefing of the mission, he suddenly remembered that he gave them more than one kind of sleep dart for the operation. Bentley had expected the heist to be substantially more difficult than their usual fare, so he had given his friends all he thought they would need in for a standard, difficult to reach target. Though, truth be told, he had a feeling that he should've kept the meeting as short and to the point as usual because he had the shaking suspicion that maybe Murray was a little too overwhelmed with the information. After all, Bentley had gone on for a few hours explaining the specifics of each and every type of ammunition he was going to give them and condensing everything he had learned about using crossbows over the years into what he thought was a simple one hour talk. Of course, he supposed, what was simple and easy to comprehend for him might not be too easy for the others to follow. He did admit he might've gotten a little too excited and into the briefing, possibly adding more information than necessary. But back to the specifics, the paraplegic gave his friends quite an array of ammunition. Among this huge arrangement he put a big emphasis on explaining the uses of the yellow darts, the red darts, the green darts, the camo darts, the blue darts, and the large, blue-red darts. The latter was to be used for destroying any roadblocks or machinery in the way of the target. The chemical reaction from these particular projectiles had enough power to blast apart a mech. If they were to shoot them at-

Bentley grabbed the radio.

"WAIT! MURRAY! DON'T SHO-"

CRRRRAAaaaaaaassss….BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OM!

His heart stopped beating, just like it had a few minutes before. Except, this time, he knew what to expect. Bentley strained his ears, listening for signs that proved that the worst had not come to pass.

Moments passed by and the only audible sound was the crumbling of earth and sand.

He pressed the back of the wheelchair and his neck to the boulder.

He…just didn't…

He looked for a name for the emotion; scratch that, group of emotions taking their toll on his psyche.

_Shock? A cruel sense of relief? __Anger?_

_ Fear? __Guilt? Remorse?_

_Grief?_

The turtle was reluctant to turn around. After seeing the disgusting river of body parts in Mz. Ruby's voodoo domain, he really didn't want to see fresh, burnt, and possibly more mangled remains. Especially _hers_.

But maybe the missile missed? Maybe the mouse had escaped the blast just in time? After all he didn't hear flesh or bone being torn apart and crushed, only the sound of his metal gear being blown to bits. Or maybe the blast just incinerated her?

Bentley didn't know what to do.

*Bentley?...Bentley?*

He didn't reply. He didn't want to.

*Bentley, look…I'm so-*

"It's…not your fault, Murray. I should've been more specific.", he paused for a moment, "Penelope…what does s-….is she…"

*Dead? No, but it looks like she's really hurt though. She's trying to make a run for the building, but I doubt she'd get far.*

"What do you mean by hurt?"

*See for yourself.*

...

Bentley, after a few seconds, concluded that if the others weren't disturbed by her injuries, he wouldn't be as well. But then again, he did expect the worst as Sly and Murray were a good deal away and probably couldn't tell if it was really bad from that distance. He took the risk anyway.

The turtle looked up from behind the rock.

The two hadn't been kidding; she had her back toward him and the rock and was slowly limping away towards the concrete construction, clutching her upper right arm, which was oddly out of view. It didn't look like she had her gun, which was quickly confirmed with a quick look at the ground where it lay several feet away amongst other oddly shaped debris. Bentley made a mental note to take and study it later.

However, now was the time to catch her.

"Guys, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

*Yep! Let's get that traitor!*

"But be careful", Bentley added quickly, "We don't want to startle her or hurt her even more."

*Don't worry; I won't make that mistake again. That is, if she keeps her mouth shut and doesn't hurt anyone….You coming?*

"Well, what do you think?"

The turtle wheeled himself out from behind the rock and began to move toward Penelope. He started slow at first but then picked up the pace as she got closer to her destination. For a brief moment, the mouse turned her head back slightly to catch a glimpse of her purser after which she began to limp faster than he had thought possible. Bentley likewise increased his speed.

"Geez, you would've thought the shell shock would've affected her more." He muttered.

A swift movement caught his eye and by means of magic or some elaborate desert mirage, the building moved. Well, 'moved' was a bit of an understatement. The entire structure sprang to life and folded itself inward and outward to create a grand crescent shaped entrance that would dwarf a super stadium. Clearly the mad mouse's base was a lot bigger than it had originally looked or she consulted the Home Improvement Guide of Tomorrow to beef up the doorway. It was truly a sight to behold.

However, sightseeing, the paraplegic reminded himself, was not the goal here. Getting Penelope in jail and stopping whatever evil plan she was going to put into play was.

He pressed a few buttons on his chair, which put it into overdrive.

In a few seconds he was just a few feet away from his former ally. He was so close. So nearly there.

He stretched out his arm to grab her as he got closer and closer. He finally had her in reach!

Then she stopped.

Bentley had to jam the breaks on his chair to order to stop himself from running her over. He swerved dangerously to the left, nearly toppling over into the sand covered concrete. The turtle looked down to regain his composure, intended position, and breath, and, after all was satisfactory, looked up.

They were standing in the middle of the crater like entrance a reasonable distance from what appeared to be a sizable, thousand-ton double doorway. Penelope still had her back towards him and was standing perfectly still.

He decided to break the silence as he figured, from what he encountered earlier, she certainly wouldn't.

"Hey!-_pant-_you-_huff_-should slow down a bit don't you think?" Hyper speed somehow always got him hyped, and this time was no exception.

Predictably, she said nothing.

"I mean…you survived a bomb for crying out loud! You should probably be…a little bit more…you know."

Her tail twitched.

Bentley sat up a little in his chair. "Pardon me for asking again", he spoke intently, "But…in regards your recent behavior and a very recent explosion….are you ok?"

Once again silence was her only answer.

"Look", he sighed, "I know that you hate me. I know that we hate each other. And I know the entire world hates you…albeit for understandable reasons…"

Her left ear twitched.

"But despite how angry we are at you, you can still come willingly and we will still help you. The Cooper gang still has an honorable code…despite how much you hate that. Sly and Murray might be a little tense, but I can assure you that you won't be hurt….more than you already are. "

Penelope's wall of reserve was apparently unbreakable at this point.

"I know our different attitudes and ideas can be jarring. And I know they can and have caused conflict between you and everyone….But we're both human…right?"

Bentley presumed it was best to stop talking. There was just no way of compromising if all he got was silence.

But then, Penelope began to turn around.

Yes. Now he could hopefully get an answer! Now she would stop acting mute and communicate.

The turtle lifted his head to face her.

No.

His hand clasped his mouth as he expelled a gasp of horror.

No. No.

This wasn't!

IT COULDN'T BE!

"BENTLEY!", Sly and Murray called out from behind him. They were running towards them and approaching at a respectable rate. "Did you catch up with her? Did you-", they froze.

For standing all around them, upon the grand walls of the entrance and the ground as well, was a legion of jumpsuit-clad mice all silently pointing their guns at them.

And standing before Bentley, was a terrible sight.

For one thing, her sunglasses and bandana had been lost, no doubt blown away by the explosion. But now he could see that there was a reason why she wore them. They were covering up her face, her now desiccated face. Her right cheek was torn open by the bomb's shrapnel, her skin peeling and melting off. Her right arm was blown to bits, hanging limp against her chest. Her jumpsuit and fur up to her elbow had been singed to a crisp, the tattered leather strips of her garment contemplating the ribbons of skin dangling off her body.

But instead of flesh and blood, the only thing constituting the injuries, everything under her lavender fur, was bent, broken, and gleaming sliver metal.

And her eyes, previously shielded by her black shades, were even darker, lenses-like rectangles.

This particular mouse, the one they had been after this whole time in the desert...

…was a **_robot._**

A speaker called out from somewhere in the walls.

"You've reached the Wise Industries headquarters! Please state your business…or prepare to be assimilated."


	4. Chapter 4

**Yeah, I'm still here.**

**Pardon the extreme delay but I had a major vocabulary and sentence structure block. And holiday stuff. And boredom.**

**This chapter will be pretty short.**

The three stood in complete silence.

Obviously unsatisfied, the speaker called out again with annoyance, _"Excuse me, sirs, but can you please state your business?"_

Oddly, considering the circumstances, Murray was the first to speak up out of the trio.

"Uh, well, we're looking for a cold blooded killer…Do you happen to have a mouse with a thing for techie stuff?"

"_Yes we do, but which one are you talking about?"_

Murray looked over at the impending rodent legion surrounding them.

"Well…the one that kills people."

"_Yeah, that's everyone around you. They've all killed people before, well, at least most of them. Many were in the 50__th__ Irdankian conflict. I mean except for some of the newer ones-"_

"Excuse me", Bentley perked up, still keeping his eyes on the robot mouse in front of him, "But…that war never existed….I don't even think that country or land exists either…"

"_And how would you know that?"_

"I listen to the news and aced geography class when I was a kid."

"_Oh…", _the person paused for a moment, then coughed, "_Heheh…yeah I guess you're ri-"_

Suddenly another person joined in on the intercom. "_Hey, you know customers are supposed to go to the normal stores or order online, right?"_

"_I don't think they're customers."_

"_Well why else would they be here?"_

"_I don't know, maybe they got lost, you think?"_

"_Who would get lost in a desert like this?"_

"_Frank…think about what you said for a moment…"_

"_Look I don't mean it like that! I just assumed that people had tracking systems in this day and age."_

"_They did say they were looking for someone."_

"_Then why did you say they were lost?!"_

"This isn't Penelope's base…is it?", Murray muttered to Sly while the argument continued.

The raccoon shook his head. "Well…"

"_You know you could just go back to whatever it is you were doing earlier, your assistance wasn't needed."_

"_I wasn't trying to assist you. I was just curious as to why Io kept going against her commands and now needs an entire arm replacement."_

"Hey…" Sly called to Bentley, "Do you think we should get going? This doesn't seem to be the place or the people we were looking for."

"I wouldn't say that quite yet, Sly," He responded, "The technology here seems particularly advanced…Penelope still could have something to do with this place. And even if she isn't there could be tr-"

"_YOU THERE! BOY!"_

The turtle jumped slightly. "Yes?"

"_I hope you and your friends have enough money, because you're certainly going to need it to pay for the expenses of repairing that android."_

"_Look, Frank…you ordered an attack first…you're the one who should be apologizing…"_

"_They were trespassing. I-We have all the rights to defend ourselves."_

"_From these people? These intruders you are so scared of are politely asking for information. Maybe you should be as polite as them and go-"_

"_I AM NOT FIGHTENED OF THOSE SCRAWNY BRATS!"_

"On second thought," observed the paraplegic, "maybe we should go…for a little bit."

"_OH NO! YOU PEOPLE AREN'T GOING ANYWERE UNTIL THIS MATTER HAS BEEN-!"_

"_Hey…pipe it down will yah Frank? I'm try'n to watch these old music videos."_

"_Very well 'master' since you're apparently well so versed in communication why don't you settle this yourself? You do own the place after all…"_

"_Fine I will. Now how do you work this again? Steven?"_

"_You don't have to worry about that, it's already on."_

"_Mmmmkay-Ahem- so you three…What's u-HEY!"_

The people addressed were taking advantage of the confusion and were trying to sneak their way back to their base but stopped after being noticed again.

"_Great…I didn't want it to come to this but…GUARDS!"_

The front row of the army sprang to life and created a formation that blocked the exit. Then they and the rest of their comrades cocked their guns and aimed at the almost escapees.


End file.
